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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29622927">Thawing the Ice Man (or, Get That DI an MI6 Slushie!)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyricoloratura/pseuds/Lyricoloratura'>Lyricoloratura</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Lyri’s 360s [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>360 MG, Anthea To The Rescue, Because of course Anthea ships it, Greg in leather, Greg is pining, I’ve never written anything this short in my life, M/M, Mycroft in cardiac arrest (not really), Mycroft is clueless</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 18:07:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>360</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29622927</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyricoloratura/pseuds/Lyricoloratura</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a 360 MG —like a 221B, except for Mystrade. 360 words long, ends with an M word &amp; a G word (for our boys, of course!)</p><p>In this postage stamp of a story, a smitten Greg Lestrade is trying to win the heart of a clueless Mycroft Holmes. When high class and delicacy don’t make an impression, it’s time to try a different approach.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Lyri’s 360s [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2186784</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>96</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Thawing the Ice Man (or, Get That DI an MI6 Slushie!)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For a man who prided himself on his ability to observe and deduce — who called his genius little brother “the <em> stupid </em> one,” for fuck’s sake — Mycroft Holmes was, at least in this situation, as thick as a goddamn plank. </p><p>It was Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade’s dubious good fortune that, over the course of their years of acquaintance, he’d managed to fall rather hopelessly in love with the aforementioned plank — though he had no idea whether his feelings were even remotely reciprocated. He knew Mycroft felt <em> friendly </em> towards him… but that wasn’t anything like enough.</p><p>Greg had started out attempting to woo the so-called “Ice Man” with some subtlety, in deference to Mycroft’s no doubt <em> elevated </em> standards when it came to choosing a romantic partner. There had been the occasional invitation for Mycroft to join him for dinner or a concert (Greg wasn’t a total Philistine; he loved to hear Christopher Parkening play the guitar) — some of which Mycroft accepted, and others which he declined. </p><p>Was he getting through to Mycroft at all?  Sometimes, Greg was encouraged by a warm, meaningful glance, a shared joke, or even a lingering handshake. But then there were long silences... and disappointingly, cancelled concert dates.</p><p>Therefore, Greg had invited Anthea to see Parkening, and she had sympathetically agreed with him that yes, Mycroft was hopelessly thick. He was also, she confided, utterly in love with Greg as well. However, Mycroft would need to be... <em> shocked </em> into action.</p><p>Anthea’s idea was breathtakingly unsubtle — and Greg, finally feeling hopeful, had to admit that it <em>might</em> actually work.</p><p>*****</p><p>“C’mon in, Mycroft, the door’s open!” Greg knew that he’d been hit with the aromas of freshly-baked lasagna and a tiramisu awaiting them, as soft sounds of a guitar played in the background.</p><p>“Sorry I’m not all together yet — I had my bike out earlier, and time got away from me.” </p><p>With that, Gregory Lestrade strolled into his lounge wearing... his leather motorcycle jacket, boots, sleek black boxer briefs, and a roguish smile. </p><p>There was a thud as Mycroft’s knees buckled, his back slamming hard into  Greg’s wall.</p><p>“Do you… ride?” Greg winked. “Maybe with me?”</p><p>Mycroft choked, “Merciful God.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Seriously, my last grocery list was longer than this!  But it’s a fun premise &amp; is greasing the skids for me to get some real work done...!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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